No problem with 'No Country for Old Men'

The Coen brothers consistently make the best and most unique movies in all of Hollywood. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that 'No Country for Old Men' is easily one of the best movies of 2007, if it isn't already the number one choice for some.

The cat and mouse chase that ensues throughout the entire movie is gripping, leaving a very noticeable trail of blood. Llewelyn Moss (played by Josh Brolin) finds quite a bit of money when happens to come across the aftermath of a drug deal gone terribly wrong. However, Anton Chigurh (and the Oscar goes to...Javier Bardem) is hot on Moss' heels, attempting to get back the money and restore his own sense of twisted justice.

Tommy Lee Jones is Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, attempting to piece together everything that happens, but always happens to be a few steps behind. That is, of course, not his fault and he manages to work his own way right into the heart of the situation. It would seem that this movie has a typical ending in store, but the audience is certainly rewarded when the climax finally hits.

It's a simple story that never offers much in the way of character backgrounds and motivations. Instead, the film is content with letting the audience make its own assumptions about these people. After all, little else even needs to be known and every character's actions speak loud - about as loud as a sawed-off shotgun. The mystery surrounding a character like Anton will help make him a villain that resonates with moviegoers for a long time.

'No Country' is a film that will do well for itself during awards season, and is finding more of an audience as it continues to get released in more theaters. With brilliant acting and a deadly, but memorable, game of pursuit, it will soon find its way into highly-esteemed lists. For Joel and Ethan Coen, that is all fairly routine by now.

Here's another review of the movie that is most definitely worth checking out.

Getting to the library more often

Standing in line at the library with the one book I had finally decided on (The Best American Short Stories of 2006), I walked up to the clerk who dutifully followed procedure and took my library card. I had to dig it out of my wallet, considering I had not visited the library in months, with good reason of course. However, every once in a while, I get this deep separation anxiety from the place and this insatiable desire rushes over me until I actually get up and go.

"You have a small fine of one dollar," I was told, but that was it. I figured she would ask me if I wanted to pay it right then and there, but no - nothing. It was as if I could pay whenever I wanted, or never at all.

What's a dollar, I thought, so I paid it. But we both knew I didn't have to, making me the one with power. I told her, "I could take this book, never pick it up for months, return it whenever I damn well please, and all you could do was tell me I had a small fine. Ha-ha-ha! How does it feel to be so weak under my extreme power?"

Then I got on top of a table. "Attention library patrons," I said, "bow before me unless you desire an imminent, yet slow and painful, death!" Then I threw the book in the clerk's face and broke her nose.

I love the library.

Have you seen me?

Standing at the little island in the middle of my kitchen, I eat a makeshift turkey sandwich with globs of mayonnaise and mustard descending down the sides and onto my fingers. It's a quick lunch, so I stand there, staring ahead out the window, allowing my mind to drift to another time in my life, or perhaps simply what I'll be doing in the next five minutes after I finish.

I look down to see the mail that was brought in earlier - another day of bill paying and sifting through advertisements to find one potential deal that might save everyone some money. The large collection of local ads came today, so I'll occupy my time with that. Before I even get a chance to begin the sifting process, I notice the ad right on top; more importantly, the ad within the ad at the bottom of the page.

The small rectangle, not more than a few inches long and wide, is a "Have You Seen Me?" ad. Two pictures occupy this one, a son and a father, both missing since 2001. At the time, the child was only three years old, so an age-progression was done to six years to help the public further.

This all made me laugh. Not because of the unfortunate father and his son; that was truly unsettling. What was funny was that the age-progression of the son was actually sponsored by Firestone Complete Auto Care. It said, word for word:

"Age-progression to six years sponsored by Firestone Complete Auto Care."

Um, what?

This is one step closer to the entire world being advertised. Soon, everything you touch will have an advertisement. You'll be an advertisement. As soon as your child exits the womb, there will be someone there to slap an ad on him or her (gender depends on the type of ad, of course).

And who decided it was a good idea to sponsor the age-progression?

"Boy, I sure do feel bad for those lost souls in the world, and their grieving families. What a shame. Wait, I know! I can sponsor this age-progression and slap the company name on there for some added publicity! Yes!"

Superman Too Drunk to Save Doomed School Bus

OMAHA -- A tragic day in Nebraska began with a bus full of schoolchildren falling off a 200-ft. high cliff, all to their unexpected demise. What is more startling, and perhaps more upsetting, is the apparent drunkenness of the doomed bus' supposed savior.

Superman, the world's most highly regarded and renowned superhero, was visibly drunk as he attempted to save the bus full of children at 8:30 am. The blue-clad hero was swaying in the sky, wobbling about in a path that was unlike his normal straight-as-a-bullet flight pattern that has earned him such beloved nicknames through his life.

"It was obvious that Supes was completely drunk," says Morton Landau, a witness to the scene. "He couldn't fly straight and when he finally did land, we had to point him in the right direction. Not to mention that we [Landau's family] noticed he smelled like cheap whiskey."

Onlookers say that while Superman initially seemed capable of saving the children, it became evident quickly that the hero was in no shape to save anyone. Utter confusion soon turned to vicious anger, as the hero was heard saying "everyone is out to get me" and "if any of you look at me, I'll kill you."

Through deep sobs and endless tears, Gladys Jones was able to say this: "Superman had no idea what he was doing, but we were all afraid to say anything."

The joyous shouts of the children were quickly stifled as Superman proved he was incapable of bringing the bus back over the side of the steep cliff. Holding onto the back bumper, Superman was unable to get a firm enough grasp on the bus to pull it back over. Witnesses prayed and watched with dropped jaws and pure bewilderment. Unfortunately, those prayers were not answered and he finally let go when he felt the urge to vomit whatever it was he had previously been drinking.

"I smelled that puke," says Jimmy Hayes, another witness. "He was definitely drinking alcohol. I picked that puke up, and I'm selling it on eBay for 50 bucks a bottle."

Pure silence followed until Superman, still stumbling and muttering various obscenities, finally took off into the sky.

"Superman has been under plenty of stress lately," says Richard Pearson, the hero's lawyer. "This is nothing more than an unfortunate accident. Superman was fully aware of his actions and was not under the influence of any kind of alcohol. He did everything he could to save those poor children."

The bus was on its way to a field trip when it slipped on an icy patch of road. The momentum forced the bus to break through the guardrail and increasingly teeter over the edge of the cliff.

Superman was unavailable for comment.

The burning questions of 'Shrek the Third'

Admittedly, I am a sucker for cute things, even in the movie department. The first two movies in the now never-ending 'Shrek' series were pretty darn good. I knew the third one wasn't going to be some astounding, life-changing experience, but it was a decent way to spend an hour and a half. The jokes were crisp, and Puss In Boots always makes me wish I had a cat that stood on two legs and spoke to me (the Spanish accent is optional). I could go on and on about the weaknesses of this film, but something more important was gripping me the entire time I was watching it.

In the third installment, Shrek and Fiona finally get it on and make some ogre babies. Once I knew Fiona was pregnant, I couldn't stop getting the visual of the two of them conceiving their child out of my head. I figured I was just a disgusting pervert in the worst way. But then I remembered that there are some even sicker people out there creating pornos with Disney characters. It's only a matter of time before they start doing it with Shrek and Fiona - or maybe Donkey and his dragon wife. Really kinky stuff. I thought about finding out for myself on Google, but my girlfriend was with me and I think she would have vomited if the results turned up the way I had hoped.

So...uh, does that kind of stuff exist? Is there a "Shrek and Fiona" sex tape that's going to leaked onto the internet? If anyone knows...you know...my email address...

The case against superheroes (Part Two)

What about when Spider-Man and the Green Goblin are going at it in the city, annihilating buildings and destroying hundreds of thousands (maybe even millions in some cases) dollars worth of property and materials? If I was a homeowner or had an apartment that was decimated by one of the Goblin’s pumpkin bombs, I would demand that someone start paying to fix the hole in my wall that, with one wrong step, would allow me to fall 60 stories to my death.

The natural disasters and normal accidents were bound to happen whether or not the superheroes existed, so that is just something that humanity would have to deal with. By saving all those lives from those incidents, the heavy talk about fate and the shifting future of the world comes into play. Perhaps those people were supposed to perish in those accidents. When a superhero saves somebody, he/she keeps the population at its current level, creating added pressure on the scarce amount of resources available. Population pressure is a serious issue in the world and it would be unwise for the superheroes to save everybody, only because it will come back to hurt them in the future.

If the heroes were smart, they would allow their governments to regulate their activities and possibly pay them for their services. Getting paid to be a superhero would work well for most heroes struggling to juggle a job and the duties of being a hero, such as Peter Parker. Any wage earned from the government would be better than freelancing for a newspaper, even if it is in New York. By limiting their power, governments can prevent the amount of damage done to a city or, at the very least, establish a system that would force the heroes to incur some of the damages.

The best contribution that heroes make to society is the fact that they remain role models to all the children of the world. So much so that kids might just start forgetting about their parents and idolize the heroes instead. Parents work hard to gain the respect and admiration of their kids and more should be upset that these heroes are taking that away. Also, how many children will attempt to imitate the actions of their favorite heroes and get seriously injured or die while trying to fly off their roof?

A world with superheroes causes more stress and anxiety for society than one that does not. When a country is at war, experiencing rising inflation, or any other dilemma, does it really need the added pressure of a supervillain threatening to take over and kill everybody? And why would a supervillain want to kill everybody anyway? Wouldn’t it get extremely lonely living on the earth alone; I never could understand that. And how would reproduction occur when you are only surrounded by your henchmen? These questions and more can cause a person to go crazy and in this world that already contains enough insanity to last a lifetime, superheroes are only adding to the problem. They look cool and provide more than enough entertainment for the masses, but the world certainly doesn’t need their headaches.

The case against superheroes (Part One)

Maybe J. Jonah Jameson has it right. Throughout the years, he has been regarded as nothing more than an angry crackpot newspaper editor, functioning on the desire to take down Spider-Man and reveal that he is nothing more than a crook, thief, and a plethora of other negative connotations. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Spider-Man and the other superheroes in existence are crooks or thieves, but they may be causing more problems than solving them.

First and foremost, the largest threats that people face in the world of superheroes are, of course, the supervillains. Without superheroes to protect all of us, the villains could run roughshod over the rest of humanity and do whatever they please with the world, perhaps making the humans their slaves. I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly think working on a slave's wages in a country like Latveria would be all that enticing, so I suppose I would have the heroes to thank for that.

On the other hand, after witnessing heroes gain their powers in a myriad of freakish ways, doesn’t it seem just a bit odd that the villains start popping up onto the scene only after those powers are acquired? When thinking about it, the only time these colorful characters begin coming out of the woodwork is when the main hero actually starts to use his/her powers.

It’s hard to say whether or not villains would appear if the superhero did not exist first, but it’s worth noting the trend that the villains exist only after a hero is created. The villains, of course, are the antagonists of any comic book. If there is no protagonist, then what becomes of the villain? An antagonist in any story can only be called that if its opposite is present; the villain thrives on the hero to survive and vice versa. It would be impossible to have evil in the world without the presence of good to combat it as it is just not physically or socially possible.

Therefore, the absence of the superheroes could actually make the world a better place because it would also rid the world of its villains. There will always be crime, as even the superheroes cannot rid a city of that. Look at Batman for example. He’s been patrolling the streets of Gotham City for years, striking fear into the hearts of criminals everywhere and yet, each and every one contributes to the continuous downward spiral that keeps the city at cesspool status. The beatings and fresh-pair-of-pants-inducing experiences with someone as terrifying as Batman still have not taught these criminals to stop what they are doing and try to live an honest life. Small-time crime will always exist, but the police are a fine enough force to combat this dilemma.

And look at the damage that occurs in these cities! When Superman and Doomsday fought to the death (allegedly), who was cleaning up that mess? It definitely wasn’t the big guy in the red cape and even if he had lived through that battle, would he have contributed money to fix Metropolis? No way! His strength is a great asset to have, but he wouldn’t be paying for the damages and even if he could help rebuild the city, could he spend that much time helping when a new villain is most likely wreaking havoc somewhere else?

Taste that delicious irony

Do you smell that irony? It's so rich and tempting. Take just a little bite and let it sit in your mouth while you savor the juices that are sending your taste buds into their equivalent of an unforgettable orgasm. I smell it at least. What I'm talking about is my blog's "intelligence level." The new feature that I put on my sidebar claims that the apparent intelligence it takes to read my writing is at a genius level. I find this ironic and supremely gratifying to know this, not because what I write has some shred of intellect, but because I write a lot about killing famous American authors and farts. In fact, "fart" is one of my most-used tags.

There you have it - genius readers love farts and numerous references to sodomy, pornography, and brutal murder.

If you want to find out the intelligence level of your blog, go to this link:

http://www.criticsrant.com/bb/reading_level.aspx

All you have to do is fill in your URL and you will apparently find out what level of education it takes for one to understand your writing. If you're like me and you enjoy a gratuitous murder scene every now and then, you are most assuredly on the fast track to a blog only geniuses will truly understand. And yes, I am making "fart" a tag for this.

See if you can eat until you literally explode, okay?

I told myself I was not going to make a post about Thanksgiving, but I ruined that in the title. I also hear it has become politically incorrect to say "Happy Thanksgiving," but I can think of about a billion other things that are far more offensive to a person than simply saying "Happy Thanksgiving." I just can't imagine this situation occurring:

Me (running into a friend on the street): Hey, Marcus!

Marcus: Oh hey, Steve! How are you?

Me: You know, getting ready for the big day. Have a great Thanksgiving, okay?

Marcus: Jesus Christ! That. OFFENDS ME.

Then Marcus grabs my face and digs his thumbs into my eye sockets until my eyes are smashed and pouring out over his reddening fingers. Painful stuff for wishing the guy to have a great day.

But you know what? I'm not going to let society control me on this one. Since when was our collective self-esteem so soft that we were offended by the words "Happy Thanksgiving?" I'm going to say it to whomever I want, and like it. But, uh, sorry if it offends you.

The poor porn addict

To borrow an idea brought forth from The Simpsons, the first billion or so most popular websites on the internet probably have something to do with either pornography or naked celebrities. That means that each day, millions and millions of men (and...women?) search for some way to gratify themselves with one of two options: straight-up porn that ranges on the fake scale somewhere near the top and the sex scenes of numerous celebrities. I suppose I could just say numerous "female" celebrities because it seems just about every female actress has bared her chest at some point to jump-start a career. To those who have not: you have managed to contain your dignity (although some of you have lost it in a myriad of other ways) and I commend you for that.

When faced with that fork in the road, the option of going left or right in terms of individualist sexual gratification, I applaud those who take the road less traveled - that of the naked celebrity. It is rare to find a movie in which a woman completely bares her naked body (if she does, it is disguised as "art") and near impossible to find terribly raunchy sex scenes between the leading lady and her partner. Therefore, on that lonely night where you can't stand to watch another Jay Leno monologue or a Sportscenter jerk-off-the-Yankees-extravaganza broadcast, you are forced to use your imagination.

Hollywood sex scenes leave a lot to be desired, which I would say is pretty much the point. Without all the nudity and sex neatly laid out for the viewer, one is forced to dust the cob webs off the old imagination and get its engine revving once again. Just what is under those expertly placed sheets? How much can one extend the scene in the mind when all we are given is a few blazing-fast humps with one or two moans? You have to be creative with this, teasing out all the possible scenarios in your mind with that one second of an exposed, juicy thigh.

On the other hand, you porn people: do we really need to see all these inexplicable acts displayed before us? Where's your creativity? Come on, can't you imagine nauseatingly loose buttholes without the aid of a video? And wouldn't it be better to imagine doing these things with a good-looking woman with, say, good teeth? That's why it is porn - it's not for the most imaginative.

Of course, for all of us who have participated in either of these options (even it was just once), we were all pathetic at some point. Sigh.

Super Mario conspiracy

My roommate is playing some version of an old Super Mario game. I don't believe that it is vitally important for one to know what game it is exactly because it's all the same. Princess Peach is making Mario jump through hoops and risk his life so he can "save" her from the evil Bowser. We've seen it all before and, quite frankly, I can't stand watching Mario get played by that two-timing...well, you can be creative with that one. On the meager wages of a plumber, Mario is expected to travel across entire worlds and battle ridiculous villains so he can save his princess. And what's his reward? She gets captured right away in the next game!

Personally, I think Peach is giving Mario the run-around. It would appear that getting captured would be the product of some erotic fantasy Peach has that requires Mario to go on a quest to get her back. She's already the damn princess, so how much more of an ego boost does she need? It's either that or she's been sleeping with Bowser and hasn't told Mario yet:

Peach: Hurry up, Mario is going to be home soon.

Bowser: Please, baby. Papa Bowser is busy pleasin' you.

Peach: I just can't stand to hurt Mario.

Bowser: Yeah, yeah. Lemme see what's under that dress...

(a car door slams)

Peach: Oh my god, he's home!

Mario (opens door): Peach! It's-a-me, Mario!

Peach: God...um...ok, grab the cocaine and we'll go out the back window. I'll make him think you captured me again.

Bowser: Shit girl, if you say so.

----------

We're back in reality now. I just don't think this is all fair to Mario. Either Peach needs to come clean and break it off with the poor guy or Mario needs to salvage what's left of his dignity and end it with her. It's about time Mario settled down with a real woman.

Oh, and when is Luigi getting his own game, free of his fat brother?

Gettin' my ponder on about the lovely autumn season

Why is it that autumn, unlike any of the other three months, makes me so willing to just simply sit in a chair, stare out the window, and think? It could be that I am so used to summer, that any change would warrant a change in my own thought process as well. Each golden - or red, brown, orange - leaf detaches from a limb and makes the jump to new ground, new surroundings. In that same way, I think, maybe I too need to make a change in my own life. Something to get me up so I can stop losing myself in the possible destinations of the constant passers-by four stories below me. But then, I correct myself that those leaves are dead, forced to abdicate what was most likely a comfortable perch that was held for several months.

Therefore, I think I'll just sit around a little while longer.

Introducing: LOLBrian

Obviously, you have heard of Lolcats 'n' Funny Pictures, or "I can has cheezburger?" Great stuff. My buddy Ryan decided it would be absolutely hiiiiii-larious to make a LOLBrian about our friend Brian. This is just one of the many that are being made:

A short lesson on the right way to take notes

For a two-hour class, one would think that I would be doing a hefty amount of note-taking. The only actual notes for this particular class revolve around the essays that we recently had to turn in.

"Keep in mind," I wrote (and circled). I also made bullet points for things to remember when writing the next essay in the class.

• Title
• Historical present tense - ask yourself "so what?"
• Beware of generalizations

And that's it. The rest of the page was dedicated to whatever my mind could come up during that span of time (2-4 pm, Mondays and Wednesdays).

Here is a sample page of those "notes," taken on September 26th, 2007:

- I made up a new name for a character that I thought was funny: Dr. Chadwick Breasticus.

- I tried drawing some eyes, one being severed and floating through the air with a small trail of blood behind it.

- I drew the face of some man with Elvis sideburns, his chin and face starting to melt away for reasons unknown to me. He looks down and screams, "My FACE!!"

- A character drawn up to the chin is completely naked with a small censor covering his private parts. A *POOF* is coming out of his butt, along with little lines to indicate a vicious fart. In fact, it is so vicious that I draw someone's head literally being torn off by the force of the flatulence.

I really do learn a lot in the class - many valuable lessons that will help me grow as an adult and become a stronger intellectual. If Dr. Chadwick Breasticus and vicious, decapitating farts won't help me in the real world, then I don't know what will.

Great American writers

Let's say I am put in an empty room - no doors, windows, or any possible way of leaving without murdering the reincarnations of some of the best American writers in history. I'll come out proudly holding Gertrude Stein's severed head. I'll dig my fingers into Sherwood Anderson's eyes, leaving him screaming for mercy. I save the best for William Faulkner: I methodically slice off bits and pieces of his skin and force him to eat it. How therapeutic.

One of the many tough decisions in life...

So many decisions and situations in life are mind-boggling, like this: how often are you walking in front of someone, a few feet or so, and you fart? Not loud so the person can hear it, but you know it's about to get raunchy. Do you walk faster to get away, leaving an even longer trail of your scent? You could always turn around for a split-second and apologize, but that would make you psychotic. Your best bet is to wait it out, praying the person doesn't smell it or that the wind carries your flatulence into the atmosphere to be sprinkled into the sky. Personally, there's nothing better than squeezing out some massive one, then turning around and giving that person behind you a wink as if you are saying "yeah, that was me."

What I do in class (rather than paying attention)

Tick…tick……tick………each passing second longer than the previous. Miserable, distant faces and half-shut eyes think of what might be going on beyond these walls during these two hours – the fun that could be had, the much-needed sleep. This is a brutal test of stamina, a chance to experience misery. Stephen Crane would be proud. A look around the room and it’s like a wax museum of college students; bodies that appear so life-like with nothing going on inside. Just a hollow existence. I pay thousands for this.

If Death were to interrupt the droning and request my presence, there is no way I could jump faster out of my seat.

“Take me with you, please!” I would say, on my knees, clutching to Death’s black robe. A cool wave of satisfaction would sweep over me as an eternally important hand reaches my shoulder, ending my existence.

“Turn to page 1050.”

Each one of us turns the thin slice of paper, not so we can read along or figure out some vague sense of meaning. We turn it to make sure we are still alive, still present in this boredom, only wishing a jolt of anything would wake us up in the comforts of something inviting, which at this point could be a bed of rusted nails.

If I am correct in my assumptions, and this truly is Hell in its highest form - I repent! I repent!

"If you need us, we're gonna be in the bedroom makin' stains"

Imagine for a moment Johannes Gutenberg and his friends strapping on dildos and staging fake, outrageous group sex for the entire world to see. Would they have done it if they had the means to do so?

-----

Dried-out contacts shriveling on my now-reddening eyes, a class approaching sooner with each passing second, and the idea of a sleepless night. It is 3:30 in the morning and there is hardly any feasible reason that I should be awake. There is no place more inviting right now than my bed, but there is something keeping me from it, the warm glow of my computer creating this mental stranglehold that I would not be able to get out of if I tried. I’ve found inspiration, motivation. I’ve found Stella.

A comedy trio consisting of David Wain, Michael Showalter, and Michael Ian Black, “Stella” – the name they go by – has created twenty-seven short films that can now be found on the internet. Each skit focuses on some theme, whether it is turkey hunting, the search for Santa Claus, moustaches, or friendship. I wonder sometimes about the internet and the evolution of the human psyche, considering the original reason for mass communication – spreading the word of God. I wonder this, you see, because at 3:30 in the morning I am watching Turkey Hunting, the one where the three go on a hunting trip only to end up accidentally shooting their hunting instructor dead, resulting in a scene of necrophilia between David Wain, his dropped pants, and the corpse.

This act should have produced a revolting and absurd scene in your mind, and rightfully so. How could the idea of laughter ever cross one’s mind, especially after learning that David gets raped by an angel in Whiffleball, a skit that also involves Cracker Jack boxes full of temporary swastika tattoos? This draws me in, captivates me, and, yes, makes me laugh. In the back of my mind, as socially disrespectful as it is to depict the raping of a corpse or an angel of God raping a human (rape is a common theme, as is the appearance of large dildos), it is intriguing and I want to – need to – see it. In order to better understand myself, I just need to accept that it pleases me to be watching this absurd comedy. After all, trying to understand human nature, such as the desire to watch three men constantly dressed in suits make light of suicide with farts, is hard enough; harder still is trying to convey this genius humor and its message. It is unfortunate that people aren’t willing to embrace the dark recesses of their humor (although the DVD of these limited-released shorts sells for $76 on eBay, telling me I’m not alone), settling short for pithy shows and movies with tired themes that won’t test a person’s moral fibers.

Their cult popularity, in addition to the influx of highly successful short films online, provides some sort of inspiration and avenue for us - the little filmmaking group I am a part of with my closest friends. For the hundreds or so that have seen our movies, the response has been positive, with one short film winning a competition that has now put us in another on a larger, national scale. A recent movie we made was called “cute,” especially for what we were given in terms of rules as it was part of another competition. I watch Stella, and I wonder how far “cute” gets you. When we figure to start getting into bigger and better things is anybody’s guess, and it is impossible to determine the subject matter of it all. But they have a niche, as boundary-pushing as it is, and their success reminds me of our glaring obstacle we will one day have to overcome. While what we make will never be as graphic or sexually explicit, it will be important to find an audience. Cult status even breeds TV shows, even if they only last ten episodes - a DVD that I easily purchased.

To become a stronger intellectual or to understand humanity can be done by reading the news or discovering some philosophy through a dry book written by a dead, bearded foreigner. Rather than tread through the same news and internet rhetoric – social disdain for war, rising gas prices, tragedy after recycled tragedy – the screen looking back at me is David, Michael, and Michael performing oral sex on Mrs. Claus while her husband is out delivering presents in Searching for Santa.

Did…you guys know that I have a cock? she asks, as she pulls up her red dress to reveal the staple of the Stella shorts – a large, fleshy dildo.

I do now, and I’m all the better for it.